Heatwave
by TheCivilState
Summary: There's a heatwave and Elena can't sleep.  Being a vampire and all, Elijah happens to be rather cool to the touch.


_She knows exactly what to do,_ _Whenever I'm alone with her_

She's not really sure whose idea it is to go to the bar. Okay, it's her idea, but he's the one who picks the dive of a place somewhere a few hours outside of Mystic Falls. Okay, she picks the place hours from the Salvatores, the supernatural, the emptiness of her house. He drives and doesn't ask questions, just holds open the door for her like a gentleman and buys her a drink like a gentleman. Because that's what Elijah is: a straight-laced gentleman.

It pisses her off. _I know that she barely knows me_ _And I'm fake in love with her_

She's not really sure how she ends up dancing by herself in a dive bar hours away from Mystic Falls. Okay, she's had a few drinks and there's a really good song playing and at three in the afternoon, there aren't many people around to look at her like she's crazy- actually, come to think of it, there's only Elijah there to look at her. Even the bartender has gone missing.

"Dance with me," she slurred, holding out her arms to Elijah, who sat stiffly on the barstool as if he would catch a disease should he relax. He indulged her because he couldn't refuse her and she swayed in his arms despite the fact the song playing was not the sort you swayed to. Certainly not the kind you swayed to with an Original vampire.

"You're so stiff," she said and ran her fingers through his hair and loosen his tie. It was hot outside and yet he was wearing a full suit while she was stifling in shorts and a tank top. His hands were cool against her skin and she dropped her head to his chest as the effects of the alcohol began to wear off much quicker than she had anticipated. That's when she started crying.

Had anyone been in the bar at three in the afternoon that hot August day, they would've seen a crying girl swaying to a non-swaying song with a man who was looking at her like she was the most precious thing he'd ever beheld.

Elena didn't see that though. All she saw was her hand in his as she rested against his chest. _I've got a little bit of love, and a little bit of that_ _And it's all I have to give_

"Where are we going?" she asked, feet hanging out the window of his car. He didn't seem to mind and even if he did, he wouldn't correct her. She was smiling and soaking in the sunshine and for a moment she didn't have a care in the world. He wanted to see how long he could make this moment last.

"Here," he said and stopped the car on the side of the road. He held the door open for her as she slid out of the car, steadying herself against him as they made their way down a steep incline and into the woods that lined the country road.

"This is the part where the serial killer comes out," she said and he laughed because she honestly looked scared for a moment.

"I thought that happened at night?" She crossed her arms and glared at him, but didn't stop walking.

"It could happen during the day," she protested and he dropped and arm around her waist. He hadn't meant to, but when she didn't shove him away he relaxed and let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"If it's at all reassuring," he said, "You're currently in the arms of the most dangerous predator in the world." She mulled that over and pressed herself closer to his side.

She later regretted it because it gave him the perfect opportunity to pick her up and throw her into the water. His destination had been a lake. _And you'll know that I'm not letting go_

"Go to sleep, Elena," he prompted, tucking the sheets around her, but she only kicked them off.

"It's too hot," she complained, lifting her hair from the nape of her neck and settling it on her pillow. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to cheek, the chill of his hand being a soothing relief from the unbearable heat.

"Don't suppose you want to stick around and keep me from dying from heat stroke?"

"You won't die from heat stroke. It would have to be much hotter." She groaned at his wrong answer and rolled onto her side, dragging his hand with her. He eventually realized he had unwittingly entered a losing battle. He eventually realized he didn't mind losing. Eventually, he realized he wanted to stay. He'd always wanted to stay.

Elena's back stiffened for a moment as she felt the bed sink beneath his weight and suddenly, he was there, suit jacket gone and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His forearms pressed into her skin and she leaned backwards into his embrace.

For a while, it was enough, but then a serious wave of heat came billowing in through Elena's window that even the air conditioning unit on full blast couldn't combat. She groaned in discomfort, turning towards Elijah who rested backwards on the mattress to accommodate her new position, his hands resting on her shoulders. And then she had an idea.

Not even bothering to check with Elijah if it was okay- _and knowing she'd lose her nerve if she did- _she began to undo the buttons on his shirt, exposing an expanse of smooth, cool, flesh that was divine to the touch. And divine to look at. But it was far too hot to be having any thoughts like that.

Elijah didn't stop her as she removed his shirt, being rather unable to think of very much as her fingers ghosted over his chest. And then she decided to remove her own shirt and press her naked torso against his chest. He really couldn't think then. For a moment, he thought this is what humans must feel like when they were sick and had a fever.

"Elena," he said, swallowing at the sudden dryness in his mouth. She shook her head, hair falling over her face, and he pulled it away from her neck. She was nuzzling his chest, finally cool enough that the heat filtering into her room didn't bother her. He didn't want to disturb her no matter how improper the entire situation was. But if he was honest, he didn't really mind it and opted for drawing lazy patters on her bare back. She nestled further into him and with one great yawn, fell asleep in his arms.

When she awoke in the morning, she rose and pulled her shirt back on as he averted his eyes. Then she asked if he'd like some breakfast.

He never told her she'd whispered, "I love you," twice during the night. He certainly didn't mention he returned her sentiments. _I'm in love with you, are you in love with me to?_

_[song fic inspired by "Dakota" by a Rocket To The Moon_


End file.
